A Day in the Life of a Tallship Sailor

Hooray, and Up He Rises

For those of you who haven’t been with us the entire time, my personal experience is aboard the tall ship Formidable, a sail and motor vessel that mainly does short cruises around Boston Harbor. My daily duties include teaching about the history of piracy, singing sea shanties, demonstrating weapons, and talking to people about pirates ^[ 1 ]. 

On a somber note, the final public sail of the Formidable happened just a little while ago. Some of our passengers included a group of students from a local school who were researching for a school play, a prequel to Peter Pan. I got to talk to them about Captain Hook and how he was written with Blackbeard in mind. I even got filmed while singing shanties to the class, so that was fun.

As I write this, I’m sitting on a hammock in one of the ferries also run by the company I work for, because I’ll be working her tomorrow. On days when I get to start at home, I’ll have done laundry the day before and rolled most of my gear into my snapsack, a duffel bag which you carry like a messenger bag, over the shoulder. It’s about a foot-and-a-half circumference tube into which you stuff all your belongings. I also have a small satchel I made myself that I carry in hand for smaller things I’ll bring along for my commute on the train. I pack all this the day before so I can sleep as late as possible, which isn’t all that late.

My wife drops me off at one end of the Boston commuter rail, all the way down at Wickford Junction. I ride that to South Station in Boston. From my house to Wickford Junction takes 20-30 minutes, and the train portion of the commute takes around half an hour. From South Station I walk to Rowes Wharf. The Formidable was docked there until just recently. Sometimes she’s docked there, sometimes she’s moored in a mooring yard, and sometimes we tie up to one of the ships docked semi-permanently to the wharf.

Sometime during that two-hour commute, or possibly before then, I’ll get a call from the captain letting me know where the Formidable is, as well as informing me when our first trip leaves. The crew needs to be aboard at least two hours before then to finish all the jobs we have before we leave. Upon arrival at the dock, I’ll clock in, something pirates never had to worry about but a modern tall ship sailor does. 

When I get to the boat, I’ll unlock the main hatch, which is secured with a combination lock. I set up a stanchion to hold the main hatch open, because while it has pistons which hold it open, they aren’t completely secure. Someone leaning on the hatch, or even a strong enough wind, could push the hatch closed so we have to secure it with a length of metal and a support cable. Those keep it from falling shut through the day.

Once I’ve secured the main hatch, I go to open the fo’c’sle hatch ^[ 2 ]. The fo’c’sle is the area of the ship forward of the forward-most mast. The fo’c’sle proper is below the main deck. Throwing in an interesting bit of trivia, the fo’c’sle used to be known as the forecastle, but the British thought that had way too many letters and syllables, so they shortened it to fo’c’sle. 

Quite a few words used on ships have been shortened that way, so commands can be shouted out quickly, loudly, and, above all, clearly enough to be heard over the noises of the ship, the wind, or even the noise of battle. 

The fo’c’sle on the Formidable has been modernized and is our toolshed. It contains all the materials and tools we need to do maintenance and repair on the ship. That includes extra cordage (“rope” to non-sailors), as well as our fenders. On a tall ship the fenders are giant inflatable rubber balls on ropes, which we can hang over the side of the ship to prevent damage if something bumps into the ship, like another ship or the dock.

On a pirate ship or any other ship designed to go long distances in the golden Age of Sail, the fo’c’sle was where the sailors slept, at least those who weren’t officers or midshipmen. That kept the sailors’ quarters as far away from the officers’ quarters as possible. That divide in the ranks kept them from becoming too familiar with each other.

Once I’ve opened the main hatch and fo’c’sle hatch, I’ll stow my personal gear. Aboard the Formidable, I store my gear below in the aft cabin. There’s a bed platform in there for the captain’s quarters as well, because on a long voyage, modern sailors still need to sleep. On the topic of personal gear and sleeping, it’s usually a good idea to keep some cold-weather gear, even when the day is warm; not only can it be cooler out to sea, but nights can get even colder.

Prepping for the Day

With the hatches opened and my gear stored, I’ll start my check in and preparation part of the day. The first thing I check on is the engine, something that, again, wouldn’t have been on a pirate ship in the Age of Sail, but will be on most modern vessels. 

On the Formidable we keep a log of all the things we check daily on the engine. We check the oil to make sure there’s enough of it. We use a dipstick much like you’d use on your car. We also check the coolant levels to be sure they haven’t gone down. 

There are things we check that you don’t check on your car, like the raw-water strainer ^[ 3 ]. That takes water coming in around the propellers and circulates it around the engine to cool it. Of course, we need to filter that water before it is used in the engine. There’s a ball valve that allows water to come into the engine, but we need to close that before we check the raw water strainer, or water will come gushing into the ship. 

There’s a small basket inside that I pull out and empty; there will be seaweed, other sea life, and whatever other flotsam has come into the strainer. Mainly, though, it’s seaweed because we’re rarely near the ocean floor. After I’ve checked the strainer, I return the basket, close the strainer, re-open the ball valve, and close the engine hatch. On the Formidable, the engine hatch is located below a pair of insulated wooden boards that are the floor of the galley of the boat.

Once I’m sure the engine is okay, I go back to the aft cabin where the electrical panel is located. That controls all the electronics, lights, and anything else that runs off electricity. 

Our boat has three large batteries. They’re 2 feet long, by 1 foot wide, by 2 feet deep, and they’re full of battery acid. They’re huge, and they can store an enormous amount of electricity. They’re hooked up to an alternator, and one of them runs the engine while the other two run all the other electronics and electrical items on the ship. We need both of those batteries up to at least ten volts before they’ll work. 

Every morning I flip two switches which connect the batteries to the ship’s systems, then turn on all the electronics and make sure they work. That includes the VHF system for making calls on the radio, the nav system, the running lights, which have to be on if we’re at sea at night—including the red light and green light on opposite sides of the ship, and the steamer light on the foremost mast—which allow other boats to see us coming. 

We also have a macerator and a water pump to keep up water pressure. The macerator is what takes solids from the head and makes them not-solid ^[ 4 ]. It’s like a garbage disposal you’d have in your kitchen sink, but on a toilet. 

Other electrical things we have to activate include all of the cabin lights, which have a master switch that allows them to be turned on and also turns on the cabin light in the head. That light is permanently on because there is no window in the head. I make a note on the engine log that I’ve turned all the ship’s electrical systems on, I note the voltage on each of the batteries, and then I move on to the bilge pump.

We have automatic bilge pumps on the Formidable. They come on whenever the water level in the bilge reaches a certain depth, and every time they turn themselves on, they advance a counter. Throughout the day we check the counter to see how many times they’ve turned on. 

If they’re coming on too often, that means something is wrong. It could mean we’re taking on more water than we should, it could mean the actuator that tells the pumps the water depth isn’t working as it should, or it could mean there is something stuck in one of the pumps, which we have to clean out. That’s a really disgusting chore, but it’s something that needs to be done, or water will start coming in faster than we pump it out, which is a bad thing. 

Generally, water on the inside of the ship is bad, although some of it is just natural, like condensation. Luckily, condensation is a small enough amount that it won’t flood the ship, but with anything else, the crew has to be aware of it. Once I’ve noted how frequently the bilge pumps came on during the night, I reset the counters to zero. That lets the captain know how frequently the pumps are coming on, and from that he can tell if the pumps need maintenance.

After I’ve checked the bilge pumps, I need to do a radio check to make sure it’s working properly. When I do that, I don’t use the normal channels boats would use, channel 13 and 16 on VHF. 

As another neat aside, if you have a walkie-talkie set and tune it to channel 13 or 16 while you’re near the shore, you may be able to hear boats talking to one another. 

If we used those lines for our radio check, that would tie them up and possibly interfere with important message traffic. Instead, we use channel 27, which has been reserved by a company specifically as an automated radio check channel. It’s pretty simple; we hold down the broadcast button and say “radio check” or “Formidable radio check,” so we know it’s us saying it. 

A moment after you stop broadcasting, the automated radio check service will reply with “this is the automated radio check service on channel 27,” followed by the playback of the recording it made of you doing your radio check. Once I’ve checked the radio, I make a note in the log that it’s working properly.

Once I’m sure the radio is working, I check the head to make sure it has toilet paper and paper towels, that everything is clean, and that there is a certain level of water in the toilet bowl. If there is too much, the water will slosh all over the room when we are out to sea, and that’s not a pretty sight. After I’ve checked the head, I mark the head check done on the engine log.

Since our main job is taking passengers on tours of the bay, and those passengers get thirsty, I need to make sure our coolers are full of ice and ready to keep the beverages we stock cold. 

Daily, we wash down the deck with a garden hose hooked up to shore water at the dock. If we have time, I will break out the deck brush and a bucket of soapy water. Swabbing the deck is important, as it prevents the scuppers (water drainage holes at the deck level) from clogging and rusting. It also gives the appearance of a clean ship. Once this is done, all the flat surfaces are wiped down. Being so close to Logan Airport, the constant air traffic kicks up large amounts of dust.

One final thing I do every day is to unfurl all the lines on all the sails. That means I take the lines that are holding the sails in place and untie them. If this task is not done, we won’t be able to set the sails once we’re out to sea.

All of that, everything from me arriving to unfurling the sails, needs to be done before the day at sea even starts before any of our passengers arrive.

Taking on Passengers

Once I’ve got all the early morning checks done, I’ll check in with the office to find out how many people we have signed up for the day. Our company used Groupon and Goldstar to boost ticket sales. We’ll also check to see how many walk-ons we’ve got scheduled for our trips of the day. 

We do four trips a day, at noon, 2 p.m., 4 p.m., and a sunset cruise that goes from 6:30-8:30 p.m. Customers usually start arriving about 15 minutes before the scheduled time, which is when we start boarding passengers. Depending on the season and time of day, we’ll have different numbers of passengers aboard. For example, we might have 15-20 people on a typical trip.

Once we have our “full complement of people”—the full number that have signed up—the captain will tell me to “do the Honors.” That means I’m supposed to tell the passengers a set of rules (set by the Coast Guard) that they need to obey while we’re at sea. I’ve done the speech so many times I can do it at a moment’s notice without thinking about it ^[ 1 ]. 

“Welcome to pirate ship Formidable, my name is Mr. MacKinnon, also known as Van. Sometimes the captain calls me ‘Stop That.’ I am the master at arms and the shanty man, so I’ll be singing you songs and showing you the weapons pirates would use. Now, we have a few safety items we need to go over before we leave the dock. The No. 1 rule is that we must come back with the same number of people we leave with. With that in mind, we will ask that you not stand on the seats, lean over the rails, or climb the rigging, because if you fall over, we have to go find a different boat to replace you with someone else. That is really embarrassing for us. 

“Now, we are 49-passenger rated with the U.S. Coast Guard, but we have fewer than that on board right now. However, in case of an emergency, we have life jackets in the white deck boxes up on the quarter deck, and also down below. But, honestly, don’t give them another thought unless you see the captain put one on. That’s when you want to pay attention. 

“Now, we do have a bathroom on board. In the marine industry it is called a head. The head is down below to the left of the stairs behind a white door. It is a single private stall, and the light should be on when you enter, but if the light is not on, the switch is on the light itself, not the wall switch. The wall switch is for when we’re plugged into shore power, and our extension cord does not reach that far into the bay. 

“There’s a little red button underneath the sink that flushes the toilet, and everything goes into a holding tank. I’m pretty sure you all know what to do leading up to that point. However, we will ask that you not put anything into our head that has not gone through your head, except for toilet paper. You don’t need to chew the toilet paper to use it. 

“Paper towels and other things will plug up the toilet, so there is a waste basket on the side for that. If the toilet does get plugged up, please come up and tell us. All you have to say is, ‘Van, I don’t know who the person ahead of me was, but somebody else plugged up the toilet.’ You don’t have to take credit for it, just let us know so we can clean it for the next person. 

“Now, the last thing about the head is that the door latches when you shut it, but it does not lock, so knock on the door before you enter. Or throw it open while shouting ‘surprise!’ But I’m pretty sure the person inside would prefer option No. 1. 

“Now as we leave the dock, the captain will be blowing the air horn, one long blast and three short blasts. That is to let everyone in the harbor know that there is a boat leaving the dock and we are going in reverse propulsion. It is a little loud, so the captain will warn you ahead of time. You might want to cover your ears. 

“Just so you know, if you happen to get thirsty, we have drinks on ice. We have water and sodas in the cooler on the port side for a dollar, and on the starboard side we have Bud and Bud Light for $4, and it is past noon, so there’s no judgment.”

Yep, all that just flows out of my mouth whenever the captain tells me to “do the Honors.” You can see that after saying that four times a day, who knows how many days per year, for years, I’ve tried to liven it up and make it fun for everybody. People are more likely to listen if they’re not bored to tears, y’see.

Once I’ve done the Honors, I get rid of the boarding ramp and the lines that fasten us to the dock. Those lines include the bow line, the stern line, the forward-most, and the aft-most spring lines. The fore-facing spring and the aft-facing spring keep us from moving forward or backward along the dock. The bow and stern lines keep us from moving outwards along the dock. 

I start with the bow line, then move on to the fore-facing spring. Next, we remove the stern line, leaving us with just the aft-facing spring line. As we remove each of the lines, we shout that the line is off, for example “bow line is off.” When we’re down to just the aft-facing spring line, we shout out “we are on one.” The captain replies to “on one” with “backing.” I’ll be in a position where I can disconnect the final line, and when I do, I’ll shout “all lines on the dock and all crew on board.” At that point the final crew members board, since they have to be on the dock to collect the lines. Once they’re on board I set up the gate, two chains, and a net that cover the place where people boarded.

Showcasing Boston’s History

Once we’re off the dock, I’ll say to the people on deck, “Now that we’re off the dock, I know you all had to pay to get on board. Did you know you have to pay to get off safely as well?” That serves to get the attention of the passengers and the resulting banter keeps them amused until we get to the Four Points Channel, where the Boston Tea Party Ships & Museum is located. 

We point out the Eleanor and the Beaver, replicas of boats used in the Boston Tea Party, and we go over some of the history about the Tea Party itself. We also talk about how so much of the harbor is landfill. The tea party itself took place in a spot which is now about a block inland. We continue to talk about local history as we sail around the harbor down to the seaport district.

We travel out to Castle Island, where Fort Independence sits. That fort was built during the War of 1812, finished in 1814. There has always been a fortification of some kind on Castle Island since the 1600s, when Boston was first colonized. Edgar Allan Poe was stationed there, and it is said that a local legend about the fort lead to him writing the short story The Cask of Amontillado.

We’ll normally fire a salute at Fort Independence using a signal cannon which uses a 10-gauge shotgun blank. It’s a breech-loading gun where, once the breech is closed, we use a mallet to hit the firing pin to fire it. I normally wear earplugs when I fire that gun because when I don’t, my ears ring for a solid 5 minutes after firing. I can only imagine how long the folks firing actual cannons had ringing ears after a battle.

Once we’ve fired our salute, we come about and make our way towards east Boston. Fun fact, there is a set of golden steps that lead up to the immigration office in east Boston; it is second only to Ellis Island in terms of the numbers of immigrants who entered the states through it. 

We follow down to Charlestown where we point out the USS Constitution, the oldest commissioned warship in the world ^[ 5 ]. If we’re doing a sunset cruise, we’ll beat a hasty retreat to get to the Constitution before the sunset firing. The Navy has a tradition that at sunset you fire a gun to signal the passing of the sun. It started as a navigation aid, but now it’s become a tradition. We’ll fire a salute in return after they fire theirs.

Throughout this entire cruise, I’m singing sea shanties, telling stories about pirates that have connections to the city of Boston, telling people about the history of the landmarks we’re passing, answering the passengers’ questions, and demonstrating weapons.

Sailing the Formidable

While I’m doing all that, the captain is steering the ship, and the other deckhand is setting at least two of the sails. One of those is the spanker, which runs from the back of the ship parallel to the keel of the ship. It’s a long rectangular sail that runs up the rearmost mast. We’ll usually have any children aboard help us set that sail. 

We’ll then set one or two of the head sails, which are the sails attached all the way to the front of the bowsprit. These are the flying jib, also known as the outer jib, and the inner jib. We’ve also got the forward staysail. While I and some helpers haul on the sails, I’ll sing a sea shanty to keep everyone pulling in time.

The deckhand is usually helping with the sheets, which are the lines that hold the sails to one side or the other. That’s where the term “three sheets to the wind” comes from, by the way: there is one sheet attached to each of those three sails I mentioned earlier, and if they are “to the wind,” the sails are flapping about, which means they have no direction. If we change direction or the wind changes direction, we move the sheets to the other side, also called “tacking over.”

The other deckhand also carries messages from the captain to myself and takes care of any miscellaneous tasks the captain needs done. They also fulfill any drink orders, and finally they keep an eye on the passengers to make sure everyone is being safe. 

The captain has to watch our course, and I’m keeping everyone entertained, so the other deckhand needs to make sure none of the passengers do something that might put themselves or anyone else in danger.

After we pass the Constitution, we usually start striking the sails, or taking them in, because they’re no longer of use. Essentially, we do everything in reverse. First, we strike the head sails, then we strike the spanker. Regarding “the spanker,” there’s an excellent comic, Baggywrinkles ^[ 6 ], written by an illustrator who became a tall ship sailor. It’s an excellent series of comics which documents her life as a sailor. There’s a great episode where she talks about all the different mundane things aboard ship that sound dirty but aren’t.

Returning to Dock

As we get close to the dock, we make sure everyone is seated. Before we get the ramp back up, we pull the gate down, and we don’t want any mishaps at the last moment. 

There have been cases where we told the passengers to remain seated and mind their children, but the children escaped and rushed over to the open section of rail to see the water rushing past. When that happens, we have to drop whatever we’re doing and become a human wall to keep them from getting too close to the open gate, and verbally admonish them until they sit down.

To finish things off, as we near or are at the dock, I’ll sing one final shanty called “Leave Her Johnny,” a song about a sailor leaving a ship he’s been on for a long time. We’ll set the lines, first the aft-facing line, then the bow line, followed by the forward-facing spring, and then the stern line. During that whole process we watch the passengers, because passengers frequently get up and wander too close to the still-open gate for comfort. 

Finally, we get the boarding ramp in place, and the captain gives a speech about how the day was lovely and the weather was nice, and he finishes with, “If you wish to leave a gratuity, we have a spot just forward of the mast,” there’s a treasure chest there, “a friendly reminder that tipping does make you sexy and glamorous.” With that, we let the passengers disembark. 

I’ll sing a birthday song for any passengers who have a birthday that day, “This is your birthday song, it isn’t very long. There you go.” No, that’s it, that’s all there is to the birthday song, but I sing it loud enough to echo off the buildings near the docks.

At Day’s End

Everything from casting off to returning happens four times a day, and then it’s time to put things away for the day.

At the end of the day, after the final trip, we’ll decide whether we’ll be staying at the dock, tying up to another ship, or heading to our mooring. Once we know where Formidable will be staying, we put away the weapons, bring down the tip chest, store the harnesses we wear when we go aloft, empty the trash bins, put in new liners, rinse down the deck, shut down all the electronics, and put them away in one of the deck boxes. 

We store our signal cannon in a special box known as the “boom box,” because it holds the thing that goes boom. We take that box below, tidy up anything that needs tidying, and bring any comfort items, like blankets we’ve brought, up from storage, back down to their spots below. 

While we’re doing all that, the captain is usually getting back in his civvies and counting out the money from drink sales. We furl the sails and I’ll run daisy chains down the length of the head sails and the spanker, which means I have to climb aloft to put those in place.

There’s another bit of slang that originates in the Age of Sail, the “daisy chain” ^[ 7 ]. A daisy chain is, of course, a chain of daisies, but sailors were the first to use it for something reminiscent of those. If you have a line, you wrap it around whatever you’re furling, then send the line through that wrap, making a loose overhand knot. You then run those chains down the length of whatever you’re trying to furl.

Once I’ve furled all the lines, I’ll run an extension cord to shore power to charge the ship’s batteries for the night. I’ll also hook my personal devices up to that, so I don’t use up the ship’s battery power recharging them. 

Sometimes, if we have time, the captain will stick around and crack a beer with us. While we’re drinking, we’ll discuss future charters, any changes to our schedule, remind us of any maintenance someone spotted during the day, and whatever else might be on the horizon.

Once the captain’s done for the day, I go about shutting down everything I turned on in the morning, shutting off all the lights, turning off all the switches I turn on in the morning, and so forth. I’ll set up my hammock if I’m going to be staying overnight on the boat. 

Some days I might leave the boat to go get something to eat, usually setting up my hammock before I leave so I don’t have to do it later. Other days we’ll have private charters who leave excess food on board. Those times I’ll make dinner out of that. Sometimes they even leave excess liquor. Those are good nights.

Overall, working on a ship is less stressful than working in the retail or corporate worlds. Aboard ship, people tend to not have short tempers. You can’t have a short temper and roll with the punches when things go wrong. Adaptability is important aboard, and that is reflected in sailors’ everyday lives.

We wind up having to make do when it comes to hobbies and pastimes, as there isn’t a lot of spare space to store the things normally associated with hobbies. In my case, I have quite a bit of space, since I’m usually the only one sleeping on board, but that’s balanced out by having to deal with the rowdy drunken types who want to sneak aboard the pirate ship at night. 

In general, though, I’ve got plenty of time at night to read, whether for pleasure or to research things for my day job. I can also go ashore and relax in the local watering holes—not so much for the drinking as for the camaraderie found in those places.

Historical Differences

Many parts of my job are like those of a tall ship sailor in the Age of Sail and those aboard other tall ships. I give a few more history lessons than some of the folks on other tall ships, but other than that my day is remarkably like my peers aboard other modern tall ships. 

On the other hand, everything related to passengers would have been uncommon back in the day. Passengers might book passage from one port to another, or across the ocean, but those didn’t happen frequently.

The crew would be larger on a historical ship, but not very much. The Formidable is based on the design of a hundred-foot cargo vessel from that age, and given how we arrange our rigging, we generally can get by with only a few people to keep things rigged. 

Our typical crew is a captain and two deckhands. They likely would have needed a few more because there would have been fewer modern amenities, and they sailed further than we do. For example, every ship needed a full-time carpenter, since they couldn’t just run down to a local store for parts or hire a carpenter when they were out to sea. Bilge pumps weren’t electric, or run by an engine, so they would have had to been pumped out manually by crew members. 

Where we take plastic bottles of water stored in coolers filled with ice, during the golden Age of Sail, water would have been kept in wooden casks which would spoil quickly. Instead, sailors drank a gallon of “small beer” every day. Small beer has 1-2 percent alcohol instead of the 6-7 you might find in modern beer. 

During the golden age of piracy, most colonists in Boston drank around a thousand pints of beer per year, whereas today we drink around 300 pints per year. The reason for all of that is the same as the old saying “don’t drink the water.” That phrase started because the water in many places wasn’t trustworthy. 

Along with all the gallons of small beer, ships would carry rum to spike the water if the beer ran out, along with lots and lots of limes, as citrus fruit was and is used to prevent scurvy. This is where the British term “limey” comes from. 

For food, sailors ate hard tack, which is a cracker similar in consistency to a hockey puck. It will keep for up to six months without any refrigeration, which made them popular on long voyages. Salted meats or fish would be brought along for as long as they lasted. Of course, the length of the trips taken by those ships meant each ship used their galleys far more than the Formidable does, which meant each ship generally had a cook.

Between additional crew members to keep the ship afloat and those required to keep the crew fed, older ships would often need more than just the captain as an officer, which added a few more bodies to the count aboard. This meant that unlike my modern experience where most nights I have the ship to myself and can go ashore should I need to; sailors in the Age of Sail would be stuck on a ship with up to a dozen other sailors, midshipmen, and officers. This is why then—as now—sailors who lasted any length of time tended to have laid-back personalities, an ability to adapt to whatever new sailors or circumstances they encountered for as long as they needed to ^[ 1 ].

So, there’s my typical day, as well as how it differed from the typical day of a sailor in the golden age. Be sure to sail by next time when we talk about the care and maintenance of a tall ship. And join us as we follow a ship as it makes its way into drydock and back out aga!

Images

1. “Whereas the general public looks at the rigging, and sees romantic tales, I see my place of work. When we do our job right, this is what allows us to streamline efforts and operate with a limited crew.” Source:  https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/detail-tall-ship-756800839
2. “An excellent comic, written by Lucy Bellwood. Ms. Bellwood is an illustrator who became a tall ship sailor.” Source: https://lucybellwood.com/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/covertitlepreview.jpg

About the Author

Jeromy Foberg has staffed conventions as a historian and panelist for the better part of a decade. His work in historical reenactment and experimental archaeology is voluminous, leading historical walking tours and serving as a tall ship sailor. In addition to his series, Jeromy’s worked with SFS as a model, performer, and a writer for The Living Multiverse. Having spent the past few years “living the dream”, he’s rarely settled down in one place to recount his accumulated lore … until now.

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